“Get away from that car, you disgusting Black thief.”
“I’m not a thief.”
“Disgusting liar.” Nadine’s face twisted, repulsed, as if the words themselves were filthy. “I’ve run this community. I know exactly who belongs behind these gates.”
“This is my car.”
Nadine laughed. Cruel. Venomous. “A Rolls-Royce.” She dialed, trembling with righteous fury. “A Black woman is stealing a Rolls-Royce at Stonebrier Ridge. She could be armed. Send someone immediately.”
Adele Lockheart’s jaw tightened. Her fingers curled around the keys in her pocket. Steady. Controlled. Burning quiet. Sirens split the bright morning air. Officer Barrett shoved Adele face-first into the sunlit grass and locked the cuffs tight. Nadine stood over them, phone raised high, filming every second with a poisonous, satisfied grin. That morning would become the worst mistake Stonebrier Ridge had ever made.